


The Devil You Know

by Triangulum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, I mean, King of Hell Peter, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Second in Command Stiles, Torture, it's literal hell, not a lot but enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 01:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12422412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: Hell is busy and Peter is understaffed. There are too many evil people being sent down below and there are only so many demons Peter has to torture them with. He needs to reorganize. They don't utilize group torture nearly as much as they should. Stiles probably has some ideas on that.OrPeter is King of Hell, Stiles is his second in command, and Talia summons them for a favor.





	The Devil You Know

**Author's Note:**

> I planned on posting this later because I'd rather spread out fic than throw it at you all at once. But I have poor self-control, so here we are.

Hell is busy and Peter is understaffed. There are too many evil people being sent down below and there are only so many demons Peter has to torture them with. He needs to reorganize. They don't utilize group torture nearly as much as they should. Stiles probably has some ideas on that. 

People up above talk about Hell like it's all fire and brimstone. Dark, hot, underground caves filled with little red, horned demons. They're wrong. Hell is personal. Peter is an artist and he makes sure Hell is miserable for each and every soul send there to suffer. Each soul's Hell is based on various factors, including their biggest fears, their worst experiences, and how evil and corrupted their soul is. How much punishment they deserve. 

For some, it _is_ being put on a medieval torture rack with demons and red-hot pokers. For others, it's a never-ending replay of the How I Met Your Mother series finale. There's a man whose Hell is walking in on his wife cheating on him with his brother every day for the rest of eternity. 

On the whole though, Hell isn't full of darkness and hellfire. Peter is a creature who likes his comforts and as the King of Hell, he makes sure he has that. He lives in grand mansion, one that his second in command, Stiles, calls a palace, with every modern convenience (Peter isn't an animal and he isn't going to live without indoor plumbing and electricity). 

The pits that house all the variations of his Kingdom of Hell are spread throughout the infinite underworld realm, easy for him to visit by traveling through the shadows, but the worst torture chambers are held in the bowels of his home. When he gets a particularly vicious whim, he can slip downstairs and take it out of the worst that Hell holds.

That's where Peter heads now, crossing the stone courtyard. The fountain sitting in the deep pool that makes up the center of the courtyard bubbles, the pitch black water dancing around the snarling statue of a hellhound (an homage to Peter's favorite hound, Hades). Every river in Hell runs to this pool, all deep and black and angry waters, only to calm to a gentle ripple in Peter's courtyard. 

It's late, the deep red sun low in the sky, painting everything in shadows. When Peter had first taken over, everything had seemed wrong. The red sun, the black water, multiple moons visible even during the day, but now it's normal to him. It's topside that seems strange.

Peter walks down the steep stone steps on the far side of the courtyard, taking a torch from the wall to light his way. He has the ability to have actual lighting, no need for barbaric flammable torches, but apparently there's an _aesthetic_ to the torture chambers and far be it from him to disrupt that. 

Peter follows the winding staircase down, the screams of pain and terror ringing from the depths. He passes the first few floors until he gets the the lowest, deepest level. Gerard Argent is a permanent ward of Peter's worst torture chambers, one that he and Stiles visit frequently. Some days they have him watch as his family is ravaged by feral werewolves. Sometimes they get their hands dirty, carving out pieces of Gerard's flesh until he's barely anything by scraps of meat hanging onto his bones, only to wave a hand and put him right, just to start all over again. It depends on their moods. 

Gerard's chamber is the farthest down on the left. Peter waves a hand over the outside, unlocking it, and slips in. Stiles has Gerard chained to the wall today and is watching in mild interest as two shifted 'werewolves' (conjurings of Stiles', nothing more) gnaw at his legs. The old man is howling in pain, slowly being eaten alive by his greatest fear. 

Stiles glances up when Peter enters, a grin stretching over his face. He's wearing his fox mask, features long and pointed, sharp teeth curved in a smile, but it's an illusion and Peter can clearly see the man underneath. He takes a minute to rake his gaze up Stiles' body. He's wearing nothing but a pair of black pants, his bare feet pale against the dark stone. His tattooed torso and arms, lithe with muscle, are smeared with blood, blood that is definitely not his. He's beautiful. 

Peter nods at Gerard and Stiles whistles, his conjured werewolves going still, sitting before Gerard, eyeing him hungrily. Gerard's swollen and bruised eyes open to see Peter standing next to Stiles. He can't hide the flinch and fear that runs through him, nor the hate. Good. That's the way Peter wants it. 

Peter presses a kiss to Stiles' cheek and walks forward, closer to where Gerard is shaking against his shackles. He bares his teeth, flashing fang, making the old man's fear spike. Peter luxuriates in it, wraps it around himself like that warmest blanket.

"It seems you've been busy today," Peter says conversationally. Gerard winces at his voice. Peter loves it. "But I have a surprise for you."

Gerard starts shaking harder and Peter knows that if he were alive, his body would be in shock. You can't have you legs eaten off to the knees and still be okay, after all. But Gerard isn't alive, Gerard is a soul. A corrupted and heinous soul, to be certain, but a soul. Souls can't pass out from blood loss. Souls don't go into shock. Souls take the pain they're given and stay conscious for it. Peter presses his mouth close to Gerard's ear, enjoying the way his body tenses, readying itself to be hurt.

"Stiles and I are going to be making a little trip topside," Peter says into Gerard's ear. "And when we come back, we'll have your pretty little monster of a daughter in tow."

Gerard screams in rage, jerking against his chains. Stiles whistles and his werewolves leap into action, ripping into what's left of his legs. Peter watches happily as Gerard shrieks and screams, the bloody mess that is his body shaking, before stepping back, taking Stiles' hand in his. They leave Gerard's cell to the sounds of rendering flesh and breaking bones, comfortable in the knowledge that when the conjured werewolves consume up to his chest, Gerard will heal and it will start all over again until Stiles or Peter come down to stop it. 

Peter waves a hand over Stiles' face and the fox mask vanishes, leaving Stiles' own dark eyes are angular cheekbones to Peter's gaze. Stiles grins and leans in to kiss Peter, running his tongue over his sharpened canines. Peter kisses his back, wrapping a hand in Stiles' thick hair. When he pulls back, Stiles' pupils are blown.

"Mm, bloodthirsty little thing," Peter says.

"Says the literal King of Hell," Stiles says with a fond eye roll. "So, was that true or just for Gerard's benefit? Are we actually going up?"

"Talia has summoned me," Peter says. 

Stiles' eyebrows raise at that. "Did she now?" Stiles asks. "And you're going?"

"We're going," Peter corrects him.

"I don't like it," Stiles says. "I don't like that she thinks she can summon you to do anything like an errant child."

Peter doesn't blame Stiles for his hatred of Talia, not after everything. But nevertheless, he does have to go. 

"She has the correct summoning spell and she's used it. I can feel the call now. I can ignore it for a bit, give us some time to rest of arrange things for while we're gone, before I answer it," Peter says. "We both know I won't make this easy on her. And I figured you would want to come. I can imagine the wonderful look on her face when she sees you again."

Stiles' face slowly spreads into a grin. He runs his hands down Peter's arms, twining their fingers together. 

"I haven't been up above in a while. This could be fun," Stiles says. "Are we really bringing Kate down with us?"

"I couldn't get a clear view of what Talia wants me for, her focus during spellwork is atrocious, but I saw Kate in her thoughts, so I assume she's involved. If she isn't, well, we'll just have to hunt her down before we come back," Peter says.

"Excellent," Stiles says. "She's been alive way too long."

"Mm, agreed," Peter says. "My sister's inability to tie up loose ends once again becomes a problem. Come, let's get you cleaned up."

Peter and Stiles' rooms are on the top floor of the mansion, overlooking the courtyard. They're high enough up that they have a beautiful view of the black ocean to the south and the deep, sprawling woods to the north. Stiles will sometimes sit on their balcony for hours, just staring.

Peter could easily wave his hand and have Stiles be clean, but where's the fun in that? Instead, he fills the deep clawfoot tub in their bathroom with hot water and slips in, Stiles following soon after and settling with his back to Peter's chest. 

Stiles hums, eyes closed, as Peter washes the blood from his body. His hands wander, as they tend to, touching every inch of Stiles' soft skin within reach. The water in the tub remains clear, not pinking at all as Peter cleans him. A perk of Peter's magic. 

Stiles' cock is hard between his thighs by the time Peter is finished. Peter grins and sets his teeth against Stiles throat as he wraps a hand around his length, stroking him slowly. He rolls his own erection against Stiles' ass, earning a whimper. 

Peter would love to drag it out, would love to throw Stiles onto their silk sheets and ravish him for hours, but he can feel the insistence of Talia's summoning spell and even he can't ignore its pull forever. As much as it grates on him to have to hurry, he pulls Stiles' pleasure from him quickly, rutting against his ass in the hot water until they've both come, calling each other's names. 

Stiles whines when Peter climbs out of the tub, pouting up at him. 

"Come, love," Peter says, offering Stiles his hand. Stiles takes it, letting Peter help him from the tub. "We have an audience with topside's queen."

"Her Royal Majesty, Queen Arrogant," Stiles grumbles, taking the soft towel Peter hands him. "She makes you look positively humble."

"I am a modest delight," Peter says. Stiles snorts.

Stiles wants them to wear black, flowing robes, just to be overdramatic about it, but Peter refuses and dresses them both in suits, himself in a charcoal grey, Stiles in black. They look striking and ruthless and it takes all of Peter's control not to rip Stiles out of it and fuck him on their bedroom floor. 

Peter takes Stiles' hand and closes his eyes, letting the pull of Talia's summoning take them. It's a strange feeling, being pulled up above. It's like his body is being pulled through a rubbery tube, pressure on all sides as he's pulled through the barrier between realms. Stiles squeezes his hand tightly as the air around them presses in until with a disorienting jolt, they're through to the other side.

There doesn't need to be a puff of smoke surrounding them with their arrival, but Peter creates one because A. he's just as dramatic as Stiles says he is, and B. he wants to give them a moment to get their bearings after being sucked through to a new dimension. 

As the smoke clears, Peter can see they're in Talia's study deep in the heart of the palace. Standing directly across from them is Talia herself, ruler of the truly enormous Hale kingdom. Spread out around the rest of the salted and rune-ridden circle Peter and Stiles are in are the rest of the Hales. Talia's husband is at her side, looking grim. The children, much older than when Peter had seen them last, are to the side, watching warily, along with Deaton, her royal mage.

Peter gives a low, mocking bow. Talia's eyes tighten in irritation, but she doesn't say anything.

"Talia," Peter says smoothly. "It's been some time. I'm sure you remember my right hand."

Peter nods to Stiles and grins as Talia's eyes widen with recognition. It's been years since she's seen him so Peter doesn't blame her for not realizing the man next to him is Stiles, but he gets a vicious stab of glee at seeing her shock.

Laura, Derek, and Cora seem to recognize Stiles too, though they look more confused to see him. They turn to their mother in question but she shakes her head. That's fine, if she doesn't want to tell them, Peter will let her pretend for now. 

Stiles gives Talia a mocking grin and doesn't bow like Peter had. Talia looks too unsettled to comment on it. She turns her gaze to Peter, the lesser of the unknown variables before her.

"Peter," Talia says. "We need your help."

"I assumed as much," Peter says. "You're not exactly one for social calls."

Talia makes a face, like she shouldn't be expected to make social calls with the King of Hell.

"Kate Argent is a problem. She's on the outskirts of the kingdom, burning her way through the smaller villages," Talia says. "Her soldiers are raping and murdering my people."

Derek winces at Kate's name.

"And you, with your vast army, can't stop her?" Peter asks.

Talia grits her teeth. "She is...elusive. We think she has a magic-user with her helping her hide their movements," Talia says.

"And you want me to take care of her," Peter says, letting amusement color his voice.

"Yes," Talia says, like it pains her. "You helped with her father, and I ask for your help with her."

"Your inability to keep your kingdom safe isn't my problem," Peter says.

"Uncle Peter," Laura says. Peter turns to her, ignoring the queen in front of him. "She tried to kill us. She used Derek to get to us and tried to burn us alive. If Cora hadn't woken up when she did, we all would have died."

Derek flinches and Peter has a pretty good idea of how exactly Kate used him. Peter frowns and feels Stiles still at his side. Peter may have been down below for years, but he still has a stupid attachment to his family that has never quite gone away, and he can't abide by someone trying to hurt them, especially his nieces and nephew. 

Peter turns back to Talia, careful to keep his face neutral. It wouldn't do to have her see how enraged he is at the thought of what Kate's done. 

"I'll help you take care of your pest problem," Peter says. Talia sags in relief. "For a price."

Talia tenses, eyes going hard. "You are family," she says, as if he should help just for that.

"Just like anyone else, when you summon me, you pay a price. Last time you paid in someone else's blood. I won't be so lenient this time," Peter says.

Derek, Cora, and Laura look at their mother confused. It's Cora who puts the pieces together first.

"Stiles?" Cora asks. "You gave him Stiles?"

"She never told you?" Stiles asks, the first time he's spoken. His face is gleeful, but his eyes are cold. "She drugged me and dragged me from my room in the middle of the night as a sacrifice to the King of Hell."

"You said he left!" Laura says. "You said he found distant family and went to live with them!"

"He was under our protection!" Derek says. "We took him in!"

"You sold his _soul_? It's not yours to give!" Cora says.

"As the Queen, every person under my charge - " Talia starts.

"Is in your care! You don't own your subjects!" Cora shouts. "This is the queen you're raising Laura to be?"

"I'm not giving you my family's souls to torment," Talia says to Peter, ignoring her children's outrage.

"Our family," Peter corrects her. "And please. I have more than enough souls to torment. Too many, actually. What I need is more tormentors."

"It's not happening," Talia says. 

"So be it," Peter says with a shrug. "We'll be down below whenever you change your mind."

"I'll just keep summoning you," Talia says.

"And I'll keep giving you the same answer," Peter says. "Think of it as an apprenticeship with dear old Uncle Peter."

Talia grits her teeth and Peter knows he has her. She wouldn't have called him if she weren't at her wits end and Peter knows she's trying to decide who is expendable.

"I'll do it," Derek says.

"No," Talia says at once. "You're second in line to succession, If anything happens to Laura, I need you here learning to rule."

Peter agrees that he doesn't want Derek, though not for Talia's reason. He doesn't care one bit about the succession of Talia's throne. He doesn't want Derek below because Derek is a gentle soul. He's reeking of guilt over what happened with Kate, and call Peter soft, but down below is not the place to heal from that.

"Well I guess that leaves me," Cora says sarcastically. "Thanks, Mom."

"How long?" Talia asks Peter.

"Ten years of service," Peter says.

Talia winces, but nods. Cora glares at her, but knows her mother's word is law. 

"We've prepared a feast for you," Talia says. "To thank you for your help."

"Wonderful," Peter says cheerily. "Lead the way."

Deaton steps forward and nudges the line of salt and runes, breaking the circle and allowing Peter and Stiles to step free. They follow Talia as she turns on her heel and leaves the room. The rest of the family falls into line behind them. Cora keeps pace with Peter and Stiles, shooting them wary looks.

"You won't be harmed, if that's what you're worried about," Stiles says quietly, making sure Talia can't hear. They both want her to stew in fear over what will happen to her youngest child. "I don't know what Talia's told you, but he isn't cruel."

"Right," Cora says flatly. "King of Hell, a genuine gentle spirit."

Stiles snorts. "Okay, well, he isn't cruel to those he cares about. And he loves you," Stiles says.

"Did he hurt you?" she asks quietly.

Stiles shakes his head. "No, never."

"Contrary to common belief, I'm not evil," Peter says, making Cora jump, like she hadn't realized he could hear them. "My job is to punish evil. Bad men aren't sent to me because I _like_ them."

Cora frowns at that and Peter wonders just what exactly Talia has told everyone about him. Peter was assigned his role as King down below, he hadn't asked for it. It hadn't been his option to leave everything he'd known and loved behind, but Talia always did have a way of blaming everyone else for decisions outside of their control.

The feast is awkward, it being very obvious that no one really wants to be here, but the niceties must be observed. Talia sits at the head of the table, eyeing Peter and Stiles warily, like they're about to start slaughtering everyone indiscriminately. Peter just rolls his eyes and goes back to the steak in front of him. 

Talia keeps shooting Stiles worried glances and Peter can tell Stiles is reveling in it. The last time she'd seen him had been over ten years ago. Stiles' family, the rulers of an allied kingdom, had been slaughtered and the Hales had 'generously' taken him in as their ward. (Talia had known she'd have use for an orphaned royal, probably to marry him off for an alliance.) Stiles had played with her children, grown alongside them. And she'd sold his soul to her brother without a second's hesitation.

"Have you been all right?" Derek asks Stiles quietly. He's seated across from him, picking at his food. If Peter remembers correctly, Stiles was closest with Derek out of all of the Hales.

"Yeah," Stiles says with a shrug. "Everything's fine."

"What do you do?" Derek asks. "If you're not...if you aren't being hurt, what do you do all day?"

Stiles grins and Derek flinches back at the wicked look. Peter wonders if he's remembering playing tag with Stiles in the castle's gardens. 

"I do the hurting," Stiles says.

"You're his second in command?" Laura confirms. Stiles nods. "And you're...together?"

"We are," Peter says. He kisses Stiles' temple, making Talia and her husband flinch. "I'm lucky to have my love by my side."

Stiles smiles at him, the first smile that hasn't been mocking and cruel since they arrived. Cora looks at them consideringly.

As soon as dessert is finished, Talia stands, eager to send them on their way. 

"We have a car and private jet ready for you," she says. "They'll be able to get you to the edge of the kingdom quickly."

"That's unnecessary," Peter says. "We'll make our own way."

"I want to go," Cora says, surprising them all.

"Cora..." her father says.

"I'm being traded away to them, right? Might as well get started now," she says. 

"You should be with us," Talia says. "Spending time with your family before you...depart."

"Depart," Cora says, shaking her head. "Well, in case you've forgotten, Uncle Peter is family, too."

Peter smirks at Talia. They wait for Cora to get changed into pants and boots, complete with a dark leather jacket that makes Talia's eye twitch. The family stands in the entryway, looking awkwardly on. Stiles and Peter have also changed out of their suits. With a wave of Peter's hand, they're dressed in hardier clothes, clothes easier to move around in. Ones they don't mind getting a little bloody. 

"How are we traveling?" Cora asks.

"We'll be moving with the shadows," Peter says. Cora looks confused and Peter holds out his hand to her. "We'll show you."

Stiles calls up a shadow, the unnatural blackness filling the space before him. The Hales flinch back, watching with wide eyes as Stiles steps forward into it, disappearing. Cora's mouth is hanging open and she looks up at Peter, a mix of fear and excitement coloring her face. Peter thinks she'll fit in well with him and Stiles.

Peter draws her forward to the shadow, stopping in front of it.

"Will it hurt?" she asks quietly.

"Not at all," Peter assures her.

They step forward, the darkness of the shadow encompassing them. There's a light feeling, almost like when you miss a step going down the stairs, then they're stepping out in the shadow of a large tree, deep in a forested area. Cora looks around, eyes wide.

"Where are we?" she asks.

"The edge of the kingdom," Stiles answers, leaning against a nearby tree. "This is where Kate's energy is."

"You can follow her energy?" 

"We can do all kinds of things," Peter says. "Come, she and her people are close."

They move silently through the trees, Peter muffling the sound of their footfalls with his magic. There's an old hunting cabin up ahead and Peter slows them with a hand on their shoulders. Reaching out, he can sense Kate inside, along with a dozen others. Their souls are twisted and gnarled and Peter grins, hands itching to pull them from their bodies. 

They move forward slowly, creeping up to the cabin's entrance. Peter pauses, then motions Cora to him. He places a hand on the side of her neck and pushes with his power. She flinches and Peter knows what she's feeling; a cold, icy grip, like she'd been momentarily dunked in frozen water. She looks at him quizzically and he mouths, "Protection". She'll be as indestructible as he and Stiles are now.

Peter snaps his fingers and the cabin door explodes inwards, crashing to the ground. Peter strolls in calmly, grin on his face. Guns point at him from every direction, bullets bouncing off his skin. Stiles smirks, walking behind him. Stiles is ridiculous and loves it when people shoot them, loves feeling like Superman when the bullets ricochet off. Peter waves a hand and all of Kate's people fall to the ground, like gravity has increased just for them.

Peter leaves Kate standing at the far end of the room, but roots her feet in place so she can't run. She shoots until her gun runs dry, then takes a knife from her belt, throwing it at him. Peter catches it easily and turns it to ash in his hands. Kate's eyes are wide and frantic, heart racing in her chest. Her terror feeds Peter and he sighs in contentment. Looking behind him he sees Stiles and Cora walking forward. Cora's looking around in awe at the struggling men and women on the ground. 

"Who the hell are you?" Kate screams.

Peter smiles and tips his head to the side. "I'm sure you recognize my niece," Peter says.

Kate's eyes slide to Cora and recognition flares in her eyes, before she pales. "Peter Hale is a myth," she hisses. "He's a ghost story from the royal family. He died years ago!"

"No," Peter says calmly. "I've just been downstairs. And honey, you're coming with me. But first...first you're going to watch."

Stiles conjures up two long knives, the blades appearing in his hands. He offers one to Cora, which she takes hesitantly. 

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Stiles assures her. "I'm just giving you the option."

Stiles methodically moves through the crowd, bending down over each of Kate's people. He slices the throats of some, drives the blade into the hearts of others. One man, a man with a particularly twisted soul, Stiles breaks the legs of. He kicks his knees out at unnatural angles, making him scream in pain. Only when he's hoarse for shouting does Stiles stab him in the gut, letting him die slowly. 

"Are they all awful?" Cora asks. "None of them are redeemable?"

"They'd be joining us downstairs sooner or later," Peter says. He points to a struggling man on the ground. "That one abuses his children. The one next to him kidnapped his ex-wife and tortured her in his basement. Every single one of them is a murderer at the very least."

Cora doesn't hesitate after that. She's not the practiced killers Peter and Stiles are, but she does her due diligence. She only takes the lives of a few. There are only a few left after Stiles works his way through the crowd, but she kills them quickly, blood splattering her dark clothing. Peter can tell they're her first lives taken. She's marvelous at it. 

All that's left is Kate, cowering and shaking in fear. She watches as Peter plucks her militia's souls from the air, stuffing them in the pouch on his belt. He'll carry them to Hell himself. 

"I have a cell all ready for you, Katherine Argent," Peter says. 

Peter lets his eyes bleed black and his teeth lengthen to fangs. His veins turn dark and claws grow long on his fingers. Stiles' heart quickens, probably remembering the last time Peter fucked him like this. Kate's heart speeds up for a different reason, terror coursing through her. She's desperately trying to move, trying to run as Peter stalks closer, but her feet are planted firmly to the ground.

Peter plunges his clawed hand into her chest, wrapping around her racing heart. He grins, teeth glinting. 

"I think I'll put you right next door to your father. He'll love to hear your screams," Peter says.

Peter twists his hand and yanks, ripping Kate's heart out of her chest. She shrieks in pain and falls to the ground, dead before her body hits the floor. Her soul, the most mangled of all, rises from her body, writhing and twisted. Peter plucks it from the air and puts it in the pouch next to the others. 

Peter turns to see Cora watching him with wide eyes, taking in his monstrous form.

"I won't...that won't happen to me, right?" she asks.

"No," Peter says, features melting back to human. "You're an intern. Don't worry, you'll keep your pretty face."

"Okay," Cora says, nodding quickly.

"What Stiles said earlier is correct," Peter says. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, even down below. This is punishment for your mother, not for you. If you want to spend all day watching Game of Thrones, that's fine with me."

"...You have cable in Hell?"

"And internet," Stiles pipes up. 

"Stiles made me," Peter says with an eye roll.

Stiles smirks and kisses Peter on the lips. "King of Hell, big old softie," Stiles says, then turns to Cora. "Don't tell your mom."

"I won't, I'm just...reevaluating my entire worldview," Cora says.

"Understandable," Peter says. "For now, let's head back, shall we? The smell of mortal death is so distasteful."

Peter calls up a shadow and moments later, they're appearing back in Talia's study. The family gathered there jumps at their sudden arrival, blanching at their blood-soaked clothes. Peter could have easily cleaned them with a wave of his head, but he likes the shock factor. 

"Is it done?" Talia asks.

"It is," Peter says. "Kate and her little militia won't be causing any more problems."

"Good, thank you," Talia says. 

"We'll leave tomorrow," Peter says. "That gives Cora time to pack and say goodbye."

"Peter..." Talia says, eyes beseeching. "Please, you can't take her."

"The time for bargaining is over," Peter says.

"How am I supposed to explain her absence?" Talia asks.

"Not my problem," Peter says.

"We made a deal, Mom," Cora says. "We have to make good."

Tears well in Talia's eyes as she rushes forward, pulling Cora into a hug. Stiles rolls his eyes, making Peter snort softly. Talia's husband joins the hug, glaring at Peter, who just looks impassively back. He's never liked the man anyway. 

"We'll have a guest room set up for you," Talia says through gritted teeth.

"Much obliged," Peter says, bowing slightly. Talia's lip curls up in a snarl before she buries her face in Cora's hair. Peter hopes the blood on Cora's clothes stain Talia's dress.

Peter and Stiles end up in Peter's old room, the one he'd had before he'd been sent to the underworld. It's nearly the same as it was before, like they didn't want the tainted room to be used for anything else. Peter and Stiles strip out of their dirty clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Peter climbs into his old bed and Stiles crawls in after him, tucking himself into Peter's side.

"That went well," Stiles says, pressing a kiss to Peter's chest.

"Mm, it did," Peter says. He rolls until he's hovering over Stiles. "You know what watching you like that always puts me in the mood for."

Stiles grins and grinds down against the thigh Peter has slotted between his legs. "Yeah? What are you going to do about it, my king?"

Peter growls and attacks Stiles' throat, sucking livid marks into the pale flesh. He takes his time, taking Stiles apart slowly, their bodies rolling together until they're coming. Peter hopes Stiles' pleasured screams haunt Talia.

The next morning, the Hales are assembled in Talia's study. Cora has a large trunk packed and ready to go. Peter watches impassively as Talia and her husband weep, hugging Cora tightly. Laura and Derek look grave, but are eyeing Peter and Stiles in a way that tells Peter that Cora at least let them know she isn't going to be a tortured prisoner. 

Peter finds the theatrics very boring, absently checking his watch. Really, it's not like they're killing her. She'll have free reign down below, she'll have her laptop and be able to Skype her family and do online classes if she wants. And if she's truly miserable, Peter will just send her back up. He won't tell them that, of course. He's happy to let Talia believe he's twisting her youngest daughter into a monster. 

Cora takes Peter and Stiles' hands when the goodbyes are done, trunk at her feet. Peter gives a mocking salute, Stiles cheerfully flips Talia the bird, and Peter gathers his magic, pulling them down to Hell.

They land in the courtyard under the deep red sun. Cora shades her eyes under the light and looks around, doing a double take at the pitch black water flowing from the hellhound fountain. The ivy climbing the side of Peter's palace is deep green and grey, the flowers blooming in the gardens bright, vivid purples, red, and blues. Cora looks around confused. Peter understands. He remembers his first time down below and how shocked he was that everything wasn't fire and brimstone.

"This...is not what I imagined," Cora says.

"No, I suppose not," Peter chuckles.

"Me neither," Stiles says. "Way less leather daddies than I was promised."

Cora chokes on a laugh. Loud barking makes Peter turn and his two hounds, Cerberus and Sirius (because Stiles thinks he's cute) come bounding out of the kennels at the far end of the courtyard. Cora startles, jerking back a little. Peter doesn't blame her; huge black dogs with somewhat skeletal features and deadened eyes are sure to startle anyone.

"It's all right," Peter says as Cerberus and Sirius lick at his hand. "They're very well trained and won't hurt anyone unless Stiles or I command it."

The hounds eye Cora curiously and she cautiously puts a hand out, letting them sniff her. They bound over, licking her hand enthusiastically, probably sensing her relationship to their master. 

"Okay this...I mean, this might not be awful," Cora says, looking around. Stiles raises his eyebrows at her and she huffs. "I mean, it's not like a lot of great shit was going on up above anyway. Third in line to succession, to be married off to the shitty Whittemore prince? Expected to major in political science and never enjoy a career I actually want? I mean, here I'm literally Princess of Hell, I can do this for a while."

"And if you hate it, I'll send you back," Peter says with a shrug. "I didn't want to say anything before, it's not a punishment for Talia if she doesn't think she's lost anything, but I'm not going to keep you here if you're truly unhappy."

"You don't...keep Stiles here?" Cora asks.

Peter snorts. "I couldn't keep Stiles here if I tried. He'd break through topside in about five minutes if he wanted to."

"I want to be here," Stiles assures Cora. "I mean yeah, I was terrified at first, but once Peter gave me the rundown and I realized how fucking garbage Talia is for doing what she did to me, well. I've found my place here."

Peter also had made a trip topside and killed the people who'd murdered Stiles' family, dragged their souls down to Hell for Stiles to torment at his leisure. That had been a courting gift that encouraged Stiles to stay.

"Stiles, if you could get Cora settled, I have some souls to see to," Peter says, patting the soul pouch on his belt.

"Sure thing," Stiles says. He magicks the trunk to follow them and leads Cora into the palace, chatting about swimming with the bizarre fish in the black rivers. 

Peter turns and heads to the other end of the courtyard, down the spiraling stone steps that lead to the torture chambers. Most of the souls in his pouch will go to a generic hell pit to be tormented by his demons, but he has something special in mind for Kate.

He reaches Gerard's door, the sounds of his screaming a medley to Peter's ears. Stiles' conjured werewolves are still devouring him, up to his waist this time, the jagged end of his tailbone sticking out through the blood and flesh. Peter snaps his fingers and the werewolves immediately stop. A wave of his hand has Gerard whole again.

"As much as I love to watch you in agony, I want your full attention for this," Peter says. 

Gerard glares, hissing hatred under his breath. Peter pays him no mind. He reaches in the pouch at his waist and draws out Kate's mangled soul, materializing her in the room. Her eyes are wide and terror-filled, shrieking when she sees the shifted werewolves at her father's feed, muzzles red and bloody. Gerard's eyes widen and he shakes his head.

"Dad?" Kate says. "Dad? What's happening? Where are we?"

"This is a trick!" Gerard shouts. "You're lying, this isn't my daughter!"

"Oh but that's the beautiful part. It is," Peter says. A flick of the wrist and Kate is flying backward, back hitting the stone wall. Chains appear out of nowhere and bind her in place. "Now, I would let the two of you catch up but, well, Hell isn't a social club."

Peter snaps his fingers and one of the conjured werewolves goes back to mauling Gerard, the other leaps to Kate. Peter turns and walks out, locking their chamber behind him. The sounds of their screams follow him back up the steps, a balm to his blackened heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com).


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